


Caught in the Tension, Silent Confessions (At the Foot of Your Bed)

by gabanti



Series: somebody loves you [1]
Category: Creepypasta - Fandom, Marble Hornets, Slenderverse - Fandom
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and gore mentions, Contains Song Snippets but is not a Songfic, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Not Beta Read, Past Child Abuse, Religious Fanaticism, Religious Guilt, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Slight Continuity Errors, Smoking, vague smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:48:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24500329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabanti/pseuds/gabanti
Summary: Toby comes to terms with his sexuality.
Relationships: Tobias Erin "Toby" Rogers | Ticci Toby/Jeffrey Woods | Jeff The Killer, Tobias Erin "Toby" Rogers | Ticci Toby/Masky (Creepypasta)
Series: somebody loves you [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1806916
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I took some serious artistic liberties with canon to bring you this mess. Title and song snippets in the work are from Glitter & Crimson by All Time Low.
> 
> Listen to it here:  
> https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=aBhgqoBnmZo

**_“Glitter and crimson, fighting the friction,_ **  
**_What a perfect mess —“_ **

The first time Toby finds himself in another man’s bed, he’s sloshed. It's almost violent, a blurry mesh of teeth and lips and wandering hands. He remembers blue sheets, striped black. Skin that nearly glowed under the moon's soft gaze. It's messy, and they stain the pretty blue sheets maroon with blood from the scratches on their skin. When it's all over, he lays wrapped in the sheets, crying. The air in the room feels too warm, and it burns his throat when he breathes. The nameless man rolls over to check on him, but Toby ignores him and pulls the sheets tighter around himself. 

At some point, the man falls asleep and Toby flees. Somehow, he reasons that as long as the sun doesn't see what he’s done, his sin is a secret. A dirty, messy, awful secret that twists in his guts. He gags a couple of times on the way back home, trying to keep it in, trying not to think back on it, trying not to cry and scream and beg for forgiveness.

Who could forgive him though? Who could accept this?

He breaks down crying over the mangled body of some girl. Her blood dripping down the bridge of his nose makes him think of the sweat, of the pretty blue sheets, of the man who’s touch he enjoyed a little too much, of his sin.

One of his friends finds him there, crying, covered in blood, and clinging to the body of a dead girl just to feel like he isn't alone. The masked man lifts him up, wipes some of the gore from his face, and pulls him into a hug. Toby cries even harder.

It doesn't get easier. His friends are worried, he can tell, but he can’t bring himself to climb out of the rut he’s stuck in. Masky’s been feeding him take-out and keeping him at his apartment since he found him covered in gore and crying. It works until it doesn't.

-

Toby’s taken something, he can't recall what. It makes his bones feel like jelly, but he’s so hyperaware of what’s happening around him. The slight scratch of the key in the lock on the door fills his ears and before he can even think, he’s rushing towards the door. Masky barely makes it in before he shoves him up against the flimsy wood.

He just needs to feel skin, something to ground himself. He finds the cold, painted lips of the mask and smoothes over them with the pad of his thumb. Just as he leans up to press a kiss to the plastic he is pulled into a tight hug.

”Toby,” Masky murmurs in his ear and rubs slow circles on his back. ”Don’t do that. You’re not thinking clearly.” 

He’s right. Toby knows it, but he cries all the same. He chokes out Masky’s name like a prayer and grips his jacket tight, creasing the fabric. Masky stays there with him all night, comforting him.

God is cruel.

-

Masky’s been gone all night, and Toby’s been left under Jeff’s care. Somehow, they end up tangled in Masky’s sheets. Toby tries to remember how it happens, but he really can't recall.

Jeff writhes underneath him, arches up at his touch, makes lovely noises, and it’s euphoric. He can smell Masky on the sheets, and all he can think of is pinning him down, doing this to him instead. The thought brings him over the edge.

He doesn't get a chance to say anything, because Masky calls out their names and he chokes up. The man underneath him is too blissed out to notice, and Toby can't move. He’s stuck, frozen, terrified.

The sun is peeking in through the gap in the curtains. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fear not, folks. This is not the last you’ll see of this somewhat non-compliant au.
> 
> xoxo,  
> Gbe

**”And I don't wanna wait till the sunshine fades and** **bury our love in a shallow grave-”**

_Toby twists the rosary around his fingers, eyes wet and red. He must have rubbed the delicate skin around them raw wiping away tears. Everything is out of focus, and he feels utterly alone. The edges of his vision are going dark._

_Blurry sight doesn't stop him from feeling the rough scrape of unfinished wood flooring he’s been kneeling on for an hour. It doesn't stop him from feeling blood slick his lips as he utters prayers he no longer hears. He’s said these words so many times that they’ve become mere background noise._

_He whimpers softly as he finishes the prayer again, and receives a sharp smack to the back of his head. It doesn't hurt, but it makes him stumble and prostrate himself. The scrape of wood on his cheek makes him recoil, but he feels a shoe press on his other cheek, keeping him down as he stares at the blurry sliver of light visible from under the door._

_The shoe presses down harder when he sniffs, trying to keep the snot from dripping down his face. He’s being spoken to, but he can't properly hear the words over the sound of his own breathing._

Toby wakes with a start and promptly raises his hand to his lips, expecting to feel blood. The dream was so vivid, like it had happened just yesterday. It’s a memory he wishes he hadn't recovered. He can still feel the phantom pressure of a shoe pressed against his cheek. 

His vision isn't blurry here. The individual bumps and grooves of the popcorn ceiling are painfully visible. This is Masky’s room, Masky’s bed. He sits up a little too fast. 

From his left side, Toby hears the flick of a lighter being lit and stiffens. He clutches the sheets so tight his knuckles go white, afraid to glance over. Memories of last night flood back, of Jeff, laid out on these same sheets, of the way Masky had taken him into his arms and hugged him while Jeff carefully redressed. 

”I’m sorry,” He says softly, releasing the sheets so he can wipe his eyes. What the fuck is he supposed to do, what is he supposed to say? 

Masky doesn't say anything. Toby can see him in his peripheral vision, leaned up against the headboard, fully dressed, with his mask shoved up to his nose so he can smoke. He’s beautiful, as always. 

”I’m gay.” He tries. The words feel like acid on his tongue, but it doesn't make him recoil the way it should. They’re an unpleasant weight that has been lifted from his chest and pushed out into the stagnant air around them.

Masky blows some smoke into the air with them and sighs. ”I know, Toby. I’ve known. I’ve been hoping you’d come to terms with it.” He doesn't sound upset or disappointed, he sounds proud.

The very concept feels foreign. Nobody’s ever been proud of him. His entire body shakes as he breaks into sobs, hands covering his face. The sun feels warm on his shoulders like it’s trying to comfort him. Like it doesn't want him to suffer for who he loves. Like it wants him to be happy, regardless of his attraction. Like God wants him to be happy. 

Masky reaches out to rub gentle circles on his back like he always does when Toby is crying, and that’s all Toby can take. He feels like he’s going to be okay, even if he royally fucks things up.

It seems like Masky predicts what’s coming next because he stubs his cigarette out in the ashtray on his nightstand. He stays still and silent as Toby cups his jaw, swiping calloused thumbs over the solid shape of it.

Even when Toby kisses him, he remains as stoic as ever, but his feelings are as obvious as Toby’s. It’s not fireworks, explosions, lightning, and sparklers. The kiss settles like warmth, like love. 

It’s enough. 

The sun is warm on his shoulders, even as he settles against Masky’s side, finding comfort in his arms. Things might not be perfect, but they’re going to be okay. Toby’s going to be okay. Somebody loves him, and he’s well on his way to learning to love himself. 

There’s still an itch in his brain, the memory of a prayer said over and over, of blood and tears and the scent of a rubber sole, but he’s safe here. He feels immortal.

The sun seems to shine brighter than ever.


End file.
